One hundred
by HawthornBlood141
Summary: Collection of moments in Ron and Hermione's lives, based on 100 prompts.
1. Mirror

_A/N : So I'm starting a 100 prompts writing drabbles project, thanks to ImNotSpeakingToYou who inspired me to do so and also gave me the tools ;-) I kind of cheated and used a mix of several prompts tables and made up my own, so it's all random. I'm fairly sure it'll be all Romione, but who knows what will happen! _

_I want to keep it fun and not stressful, which means I'll probably post the drabbles/ficlets/snippets/short one shots, without having them beta-read first. I hope you'll bear with me and just enjoy them as they'll come…_

_Here it comes ! _

* * *

**1. Mirror**

She is fourteen the first time she stands in front of the Mirror of Erised.

She stumbles upon it by accident, caught in between two intertwined classes on her schedule and she has to hide quickly so no one will see. The time turner makes her life hectic and she ends up in an empty dusty classroom on the 4th floor. The Mirror is pushed back in a corner, half hidden under a worn out blue velvet curtain.

What she sees renders her speechless.

She -_her reflection_- is holding hands with a certain infuriating redhead boy.

The room suddenly begins to spin and she feels dizzy. She turns around promptly and leaves, her heart stuck in her throat.


	2. Fingertips

**2. Fingertips**

Several years after the war, she still has moments, fleeting _seconds,_ when she loses grasp of where she is and her fingertips go numb.

And then it burns.

One day, it's too much to take.

She goes see Neville. She knocks and waits anxiously until he opens the door. When he does, he is wiping his hand on the apron he wears around his waist, traces of flour still on his shirt.

"H- How long did it take?" she asks immediately, all manners gone, because _she has to know._

"How long did it take to what?" he replies, unsettled by her frantic state.

She doesn't want to say it. She wants him to understand and just tell her. Quickly. She cannot bear another moment of this.

She sighs, trembling all over, and casts Neville an apologetic glance before she braces herself to speak.

"How long did it take, for your parents succumb to dementia, after..."

_Crucio._

Her throat is too tight and she tries too hard to conceal the tremors coursing through her body. She can't speak.

Thankfully, Neville realises what she is asking. He looks at her, aghast, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming out. She nearly runs up to him and shakes him until he gives her an answer. She can't stand his silence and almost whimpers in anticipation.

"None."

The word echoes loudly in the quiet room.

"They lost all concept of who they were before she was even finished with them."

Everything starts to spin.

* * *

_A/N : This could have gone in so many directions, but this is how it came. For anyone knowing me and my fics, this is a recurring theme and I apologise (sort of) for my obsession!_


	3. Bed

_A/N: Here. I'm redeeming myself from that depressing previous drabble ;-) You get a bit of fluff from Ron's POV._

* * *

**3. Bed**

It's Sunday morning and he is waking up.

As soon as he hears the heavy rain outside the window, he decides he needs to go back to sleep immediately and turns around groggily to wrap his arms around Hermione.

But her space is empty, the sheets still slightly warm. That wakes him up immediately.

He finds her in the kitchen, sipping her morning coffee and reading the Daily Prophet. She's wrapped in one of his old Christmas jumper - too small for him but perfect for her - and barely anything else. He takes in her bare legs, her right foot tapping the floor softly, and her modest blue striped cotton underwear peeking out from underneath his jumper. Her hair is wild and messy, just how he likes it.

He grins.

He knows exactly where he wants to spend this rainy day with her.


	4. Born

_A/N : This one may or may not be close to home for me ;)_

* * *

**4. Born**

James is born, and she's in tears the second she lays eyes on him for the first time.

Yes, Ron's brothers already have several children and the Weasleys have been family long before Ron and her got married, but this is different.

James is _Ginny's son_, and she is the closest thing to a sister she'll ever get. She has clear memories of a younger Ginny heartbroken over Harry, of a strong teenager stubbornly holding her head high in front of her teasing brothers, and then of a young woman crying at her brother's funeral.

Hermione laughs and cries at the same time as Harry puts the newborn into her arms.

That's when it hits her.

James is also _Harry's_ son.

Whatever she was feeling before is nothing compared to this newfound realisation. She can't even process this information.

It doesn't seem real.

She casts a glance around the room and smiles as she witnesses Harry kissing Ginny's forehead tenderly. She then lays eyes on Ron who is staring back at her with an intensity that makes her heart skips beats. She finally looks down at the tiny bundle in her arms, and the baby sighs contentedly.

She doesn't recall a time when she's _loved_ so much, when it has been so raw.

She feels _so much._


	5. Snow

**5. Snow**

She watches the tiny snowflakes fall and stick onto the ground through the dirty windows of Grimmauld Place.

Mrs Weasley clearly tried very hard to make the house warm and welcoming, but despite her best efforts, Hermione still constantly feels cold. She doesn't know if it's the weather, the grim house or the knowledge that something fundamentally_ bad_ is undergoing in the Wizarding World.

The snow also reminds her of where she was supposed to be.

Skiing.

With her parents.

And the guilt that had left her alone peacefully for a few minutes rushes back like a slap in the face.

She shivers, she feels even colder now.

She curls herself deeper in her wooly jumper, her eyes leave the soft slow falling of the snow and find Ron.

Like they always do lately.

She catches him _staring_ at _her._

She isn't cold anymore.


	6. Rain

_A/N: I couldn't control it, so I apologise for the fact that it's very similar to the previous segment and also all my fics segments timed during Shell Cottage... But you know... I have many many many Shell Cottage feels so I couldn't really turn my back on this one._

* * *

**6. Rain**

It's pouring.

_March showers,_ she reminds herself fleetingly as she watches the sand, the sea and the rain merge as one.

She's tired all the time.

Her body is still sore after the Cruciatus, and her mind is frustratingly hazy. She has trouble just to _think._

She knows they are heading toward the end of their journey, she can feel it. There is so many possible outcomes - _good and bad,_ it makes her head spin. She recognises the signs of her body and mind beginning to spiral down toward a dark place. Just like the nightmares, except that she's awake. She doesn't want to, but it's too hard to stop.

"Hey."

Ron's voice behind her startle her out of her reverie and she turns around quickly. Too quickly. The war is doing that to her.

He buries his hands in his front pockets, a tortured apologetic look on his face. The war is doing that to him.

She _hates_ it.

But having Ron close to her allows her head to spin in a _very_ different way. Her heart races whenever she sees him, her body shivers and her mind lights up. The way he looks at her, eyes burning into her, makes her feel unlimited.

"I was going to make tea, do you want some?"

"I'd love to," She acquiesces, smiling softly. His face lights up and she finds that lopsided grin of his she loves again.

"Wait!" She yelps as he turns to leave. She grabs his arm, her hand curling around his elbow. Too many words jump at the forefront of her mind at once and she finds herself out of breath. She fights the tight lump in her throat, because when she looks at him, she just feels _so much_ and words are not enough.

"Thank you." _For the tea. For coming back. For saving me._

His eyes widen slightly, he seems to understand that she doesn't mean just the tea.

"Anytime," he shrugs, his voice raspy as if he's holding back tears. Then, he squeezes her hand and leaves the room.

She looks outside again and smiles.

The rain has stopped.


	7. Morning

_A/N: Fluff! Cherish it, it's a rare occurrence! Also, I probably messed up the tenses, but I hope it won't kill the story for you. Enjoy!_

* * *

**7. Morning**

She doesn't recall the last time she didn't want to go to work.

But today, she just _doesn't._

She'd much rather stay in bed, all day mind you, with _her fiancé._

_They're engaged._

Ron proposed, or maybe she did...

She's not sure. The previous night is a bit blurry because she felt too much.

He had wore a nice suit, one she hadn't seen before and cooked dinner. When dessert came, Ron had looked at her with rapt intensity before his voice began quivering as he said _many_ nice things about her. _About them_. She figured immediately where he was getting at.

Of course she would.

She hadn't meant to ruin his proposal but she hadn't been able control herself. She just blurted it out first.

_Marry me._

He had stared at her wide eyes, gaping mouth and hands still shaking. Before she knew it, Hermione had a ring on her finger and Ron was kissing her, laughing disbelievingly.

She turns and looks at him sleeping soundly next to her. She sighs contentedly and smiles as she kisses her way up his arm toward his mouth. He's awake when her lips touch his.

She's definitely not going to work today.


	8. Dinner

**8. Dinner**

He's stressed because what if she says no.

_She won't say no._

But what if she does.

He wants everything to be_ perfect._ Because you only get to do this once.

_And she won't say no._

He buys a new suit. She always loves when he wears fancy clothes, not that she doesn't like it when he's in his regular robes, just that she has that look on her face when he's in a suit, it makes him feel taller.

He frets over dinner, buys flowers and lights up candles. Everything the books say to do for a romantic proposal.

She's not the typical girly girl, and he knows he could probably propose in his pyjamas on a Sunday morning over burnt toasts and she'd accept. But he loves her, he can try to make it perfect for her.

She gets home and immediately her eyes fall on him, then his suit, the flowers on the table and the candles around the room. She's pleased and surprised he can tell. Her eyes burn with desire and he can feel his own heart swell with love and pride. She's his and if she says yes _-she won't say no,-_ she'll be his forever.

They began to eat dinner, everything is perfect.

But then she ruins all his plan.

_Marry me._

After all, she's been doing that all his life.

He fought a troll because of her, he never imagined he'd fall for her but then one day he realised her well-being was greater than his own feelings. He's been a prat, but mostly he's been trying to be good. _For her._

It doesn't even matter to him that she said the words first and not him. He's in shock. She has never been as beautiful as she is right now. He's sure of it. So when his hands stop shaking long enough for him to put the ring on her finger, he laughs and kisses her.

_She didn't say no._


	9. Alone

**9. Alone**

Hermione is alone for the first time since-

_when exactly_

-since her last shower at Shell Cottage 48 hours ago, or really since that gruesome one hour after she left her childhood home and erased her life from her parents history, before she reached the warmth of the Burrow.

She realises it's the first time in almost a year when she has the luxury to take time to shower. She doesn't have to think about Horcruxes and Voldemort or her parents, or_ death._ Though when she closes her eyes, all she sees is all the bodies aligned in the Great Hall and it's too much. She doesn't want to think. She desperately wills her mind to go blank.

She removes her layers of clothes carefully. Fire and curses have ripped the fabric and reached her skin. She rapidly catches sight of her body in the mirror before looking away.

She looks like a ghost, bruised and battered.

As soon as the water touches her skin, she hisses. Pain radiates from the opened wounds and burns all over her body. She welcomes it, allows the water to clean her body. Her soul.

She doesn't know how long she stays under the spray, but when finally she steps out, she feels numb.

Almost mechanically, she applies Dittany all over her skin. Some burns and wounds scar, criss crossing her body everywhere.

They may never fade.

In a foolish attempt, she massages more Dittany onto the scar on her arm -_Mudblood-_ but with no surprise, the word stay there marring her skin angrily.

Magic is darker than what she ever thought it could be the day she got her Hogwarts letter.

She feels older, aged beyond her years. She certainly doesn't feel like a nineteen years old.

She's exhausted.

* * *

**A/N : Well. Alas the fluff didn't last...**


	10. Morgue

**10. Morgue**

The silence shakes him the most.

It's the first time he enters such a pristine white place.

Even the hospital room where Hermione gave birth to their children wasn't as white and clean. And there was definitively noise. He closes his eyes and remembers the vibrant yellow walls of the maternity ward, Hermione's face contorted in pain, Rose's screams as she came to life. Hugo hadn't start crying for a full minute and he recalls the Healers agitated state, but then his son had let out a soft, almost calm, cry and then he had been fine.

But he's not in the maternity ward today, and there's no baby being born.

Instead, today Ron holds his wife's hand as she says goodbye to her father.

It's not the last goodbye he knows that, because there will be a wake and funerals.

This is, _the first goodbye, and s_omehow it's the worst.

He feels Hermione's hand tighten around his, and all he can do is squeeze back because he doesn't know what to say.

He watches the still body of the man he once feared because he was his girlfriend's dad. He seems so frail now. Ron's throat constrict. He feels numbs.

Everything is so quiet.


	11. Sound

_A/N : Here's to make up for that terribly depressing previous drabble. On that note, these on-going drabbles are now T-rated._

* * *

**11. Sound**

Harry has barely passed the threshold of the house when he hears it.

_A moan._

Ron's name, in a high pitch voice.

He stays frozen for a minute, before going up to Ron's bedroom door.

Uncomfortably, he hears Ron's through the door and_ he's groaning._

Harry closes his eyes, he doesn't want to hear this. Now that he's nearer he can also hear skin slapping against skin and he definitely _doesn't want_ to hear this. There's no doubt in his mind as to what activities Ron is currently participating. The main issue in Harry's mind is that Hermione is supposed to be at Hogwarts right this moment, which means that Ron is with someone else. That renders him furious and he pounds his fist against the bedroom door.

"RON! It better be Hermione in there with you or I swear I'll rip your head and bollocks off."

Everything is suddenly quiet.

"It's me Harry, I-," he can almost hear Hermione's flushed face from across the door. "Ron stop!"

Hermione just _moaned._

He's never going to be able to erase this from his memory.

"It's only Harry and I haven't seen you in a month!" he hears Ron says breathlessly. "Plus," he adds _teasingly,_ "are you a witch or not?"

Harry slams his hand against the door, he's going to throw up or worse, pass out.

He hears Hermione whimpers _Silencio_ and then it's all quiet.


	12. Smell

**12. Smell**

She walks barefoot around the kitchen and turns the pot of coffee on. She's going to need it tonight to catch up on the classes she missed today. Not that she regrets it.

She hums happily, her cheeks turning slightly pink as she recalls Ron's hands on her. She shivers pleasantly and begins to fix them dinner. She'll have to make a cake for later as well.

She doesn't hear Harry enter the kitchen.

"Smells good!"

She turns around and vividly remembers Harry knocking on the door and interrupting Ron and her earlier, right when she was about to-… She turns a deep shade of red and strenuously tries to stay composed.

"Erhm- _thanks!_," it's hard not to stutter, "Ron is in the shower he'll be down in a minute."

"Is that Ron's shirt?"

She wants to rip Harry's smirk off his face.

"So what did you say to McGonagall so you could slip out of Hogwarts to shag your boyfriend?" he asks teasingly.

For a minute she stays still and just stares at him.

But that's all it takes for her to snap out of it. Harry may be The Boy Who Lived, but if he's going to make crude comments about her love life, she will end him.

She can see Harry recognising his mistake as his smirk disappear from his face. He gulps uneasily and she feels powerful.

He is _scared._

_Good._

"I just told her that it was Ron's birthday and that I wanted to see him," she says nonchalantly. "She isn't cold hearted you know. As for shagging my boyfriend as you phrased so nicely, do you really want to know what happened in there-"

"_No!_" he raises his hand in the air in defeat, "no no, thank you. I don't."

"I thought so," she nods pleasingly.

They stare at each other and burst out laughing.

"Honestly, I'm happy for you guys really but please next time try to remember the silencing charm. I'll have nightmares after what I heard today."

"Do I smell bacon?"

Of course that's when Ron decides to make an entrance in the kitchen as well. She rolls her eyes.

Before she has time to say anything though, Ron closes the distance between them, grabs her strongly and smashes his lips against hers. He smells like lime soap and _him._ It makes her head spin and she suddenly finds it hard to stand on her legs. Her hands find his shoulders as he deepen their kiss.

"We're going to have to set some ground rules," she hears Harry mumble as Ron's hand travel lower down her back.

* * *

_A/N : Soooo yeah, in case you hadn't figured it out, that one follows the previous drabble (Sound)._


	13. Sight

**13. Sight**

Ron is beyond exhausted.

George had him cleaning up the shop in every possible nook and cranny all morning. Mercifully though, his brother gave him the afternoon off, it is his birthday after all.

He can already picture his afternoon, he'll nap for hours, and then he'll pay his mum a visit. She'll have his favourite food on the table. He can picture her roasted beef and chocolate trifle, he salivates at the mere thought. Delicious.

Yes, he'll do that. That sounds like a plan.

And it'll keep his mind busy so he won't think of Hermione.

He misses her. More than he could have ever imagine missing her. He doesn't know how it's possible. They've been apart for longer before. But they are different now. He wants to bicker with her, make her flush with a simple grin, smell the mix of vanilla and sweat on her skin, and feel her hair under his fingertips.

_One month._

He hasn't seen her in one month.

He craves her more than food. He's such a prat.

Maybe he'll take a shower first. A cold one. Frustration courses through his body as he enters his bedroom. He carelessly removes his dirty t-shirt and head towards his dresser to grab a clean pair of pants.

"Please don't mind me and keep removing your clothes."

He turns around so fast he almost knocks his foot against the dresser.

_Hermione._

He forgets to breathe.

His_ girlfriend i_s sitting, _on his bed,_ wearing jeans and one of _his_ shirt.

This is the best birthday ever. Nevermind the shower, nap, roasted beef or chocolate trifle. Nothing can top Hermione looking at him with a smug grin on her face.

"You're going to catch a fly if you keep your mouth open like that."

Oh god he missed her.

He jumps on the bed next to her and clings her body to his as she laughs.

"You're really here?" he asks, too afraid that he'll wake up from the best of dreams.

"Happy birthday," she whispers against his mouth.

He's not so tired anymore.

* * *

_A/N : Again, it's a companion piece of the previous two drabbles Sound and Smell. __That's two drabbles posted in a day! Don't get used to it. Also do you see a pattern already?_


	14. Taste

**14. Taste**

He blows his candles and kisses her, his mouth already full of chocolate cake.

Harry rolls his eyes and looks away as he mumbles once more something about rules.

"Are you ever going to look me in the eyes?" Hermione asks Harry annoyingly.

"It's bad enough that I... _heard_, what I heard… I'm trying not to picture it. And this, right now," he gestures toward them, entwined and sharing a chair, "is _not_ helping."

"Honestly Harry, you act as if you've never had sex before," Hermione sighs shifting uncomfortably in his laps as she takes another scoop of ice cream. It's the first time Ron heard her say that word in front of anyone else but him. He's in awe.

Harry is not. And he turns toward Ron, a slight unease to his voice.

"What have you done to my sister?"

"Nothing that you haven't done to mine!" And he tries to push the thought of Harry and Ginny and sex, far far away to the back of his mind, but he can't. "Ginny is seventeen!"

"Yes and of age! What were you doing when you were seventeen?"

"Saving your sorry ass," Ron snorts.

Harry looks at Ron in shock and then burst out laughing, Ron follows instantly. It feels good to laugh about this. Ron hears Hermione sniffles and turns her face towards him.

"Are you crying?"

"No!"

"You are!"

"I just miss you okay?" she finally elaborates, choking back a sob. "Both of you! Hogwarts isn't the same without you two to fuss about."

Harry stands to hug her and she falls into his arms easily.

"Oh come, you have your books and N.E.W.T.s to think about, you're better off without us to look after," Harry tells her comfortingly.

Ron grabs her hand and she looks at him over Harry's shoulder, eyes shining with tears. It dawns on him how far they've come in just a year.

A year ago, he didn't had cake, they were stuck in the middle of the forest and she wasn't talking to him. Or almost not talking to him. She did read him his favourite childhood story, a small offering of ceasefire in the middle of anger and hurt, for his birthday.

"I should go," she states reluctantly.

He doesn't want her to leave. Ever.

Harry kisses her temple and quits the room. Ron opens his arms and buries his nose in her hair as soon as she hugs her body to his.

"And you should go see your mum," she whispers against his heart.

"It's night already, she won't have waited for me."

"Give her some credit, it's your birthday and she didn't know where you were last year. She'll want to see you today. Go."

"When will I see you again?"

"There's a Quidditch game, Ravenclaw against Gryffindor, in three weeks. Come and watch your sister play." She kisses him and pushes him into the chimney hearth with a sad smile.

He can still taste the mix of vanilla ice cream, chocolate cake and something her, when he arrives at the Burrow.

He wants to kiss her every day.

* * *

_A/N : Another companion piece of Sound, Smell and Sight. Or as I call it, Ron's birthday cheesefest ;-)_


	15. Touch

_A/N: Last one of those 5 prompts... All five are related to each other. Also, there goes the "kids" friendly rating. Whoops! Beware of the smut!_

* * *

**15. Touch**

He kisses the small burn scar on her right hip.

"That tickles," she laughs, squirming underneath his hands.

His lips travels higher, to the hollow of her breasts, and she stops laughing. She stares at him out-of-breath, and he looks back at her with so much love, she'd do whatever he'd ask her.

They move against each other effortlessly, like she never thought it would have been possible after their first few tries last year.

She holds him closer, her hands weaving through his hair. He grunts her name against her lips in reply.

He goes faster, harder, and her body begins to tingle all over. She is so close.

_"RON! It better be Hermione in there with you or I swear I'll rip your head and bollocks off."_

_Harry!_

She's completely mortified.

She lets herself panic for a mere minute. Then - she doesn't know_ how -_ she finds her voice and replies.

"It's me Harry, I-"

Ron moves agonisingly slowly inside her, and it feels _so good,_ but Harry is still behind the door and this can't be happening.

"Ron stop!" she says in a strangled moan she wishes had been more hidden.

But he doesn't and she bites her lips so she doesn't let any more sound slip out.

"It's only Harry and I haven't seen you in a month!" Ron breathes against her collarbone. She wants to slap him for focusing more on their lovemaking than Harry_ hearing_ them.

But then, she is reminded why she loves him so much. He is brilliant.

"Plus, are you a witch or not?"

He is positively smug as he says it, and _he keeps moving inside her!_

With some kind of miracle, she locates her wand in seconds and the charm is uttered instantly.

She hopes it worked, because Ron snakes one hand under her spine and the other find her nipple.

She comes undone.


	16. Nightmares

**16. Nightmares**

Hermione asks Fleur for wool and knitting needles.

Their days are spent figuring out an impossible plan. Her nights, knitting.

She can't sleep.

During their first week at Shell Cottage, she tried to fight the nightmares and fall asleep. But she got exhausted of pushing them away and began dreading dark.

She craves for the relief sleep once brought.

Every time she closes her eyes at night, she sees _hers_. And she feels the dagger digging deeply into her arm as if Bellatrix is still carving into it. She can still sense _Crucios_ course through her body - it hasn't really stopped aching - and the fear that invaded her brain. What if she had broke and said _everything_. She almost did.

So she knits.

She waits for Luna to fall asleep. And as she treads the yarn under the light of a bluebell flame, she clings to the memory of a warm bed and bedtime stories ushered between the pages of a book that made the idea of falling asleep once soothing.

After two days, she's made two hats and a scarf.

At dawn she walks up to Dobby's grave to lay her work on his tombstone, so he'll stay warm. She is surprised to find Ron sitting in the sand, staring at the grave. He looks at her, eyes too bright, as she sits next to him.

"How did it got to this point?" he asks, a hint of despair in his trembling voice.

She can't answer, her throat constricts.

"What's this?" he nods toward the wool in her hands.

"Hats and a scarf."

"Did you make those?"

He seems surprised. She nods.

"When the heck did you find time to knit? I barely have time to _think_ about anything else than Gringotts these days!"

"I-," she debates telling him, then she figures that it doesn't really matter, "I can't sleep."

His eyes grow slightly wider and she ears the question he's not asking.

"Nightmares," she shrugs as she looks away to avoid his stare.

She doesn't want to see pity in his eyes.


	17. Lunch

_A/N : Some Ron pre-Hogwarts drabble for you :) The prompt is in there, I swear!_

* * *

**17. Lunch**

He celebrates Fred and George's departure for Hogwarts with a candy bar he saved up for the occasion. He kept the sugary sweet in a shoebox under his bed ever since the twins got their letter. He's not exactly sure what it is - there's marshmallow and minty chocolate, - but it's a candy, it's edible and it's his.

As he relishes on his sweet, he foresees the wondrous year ahead of him.

It's going to be glorious. Just him and Ginny home, no one to play tricks on him or tease him endlessly. He will actually be able to talk to dad without being interrupted, or take another serving of mum's delicious food first!

He's the oldest in the house now, he gets to call the shots. _Brilliant!_

"Ron! I need you to degnome the garden!"

Oh well, he gets to call _almost_ all the shots then.

As he drags his feet past his mum in the kitchen, he sees her fret over pots and enchanted knifes to prepare lunch. She is always in charge, he is a fool to think otherwise. He sighs as he pushes the back door toward the garden, he had forgotten he still had his chores to do.

"Also grab the fresh eggs on your way back," she calls from the window, "Fred and George forgot to do it this morning."

He didn't thought he'd have to do his brothers as well.


	18. Night

**18. Night**

He feels her toss and turn in the bed behind him.

She's been doing that a lot lately, and he's trying to be _patient._

But she begins to huff and puff as well and it's too hard to ignore.

"Hermione," he says softly as he turns toward her. Then he asks something he fears he's going to regret, "what's wrong?"

She faces him and he snakes his hand underneath her camisole to caress her burgeoning stomach.

"This!" she cries frustratingly pointing down to his hand on her belly.

"What? The baby?"

"Yes! I mean no!" He can almost sense the hormones raging inside her, "I can't sleep on my stomach. It's gotten too big. And I can't sleep on my back either because it's not supposed to be good."

She's crying now and babbling more nonsense about sleeping positions. Again, he is trying to remember to take a deep breath and be understanding, because she's carrying his child, and that thought alone is enough to make his heart implode.

"So sleep on your side."

_Uh-oh._

If she had her wand, she'd have hexed him judging by the look she throwing him.

It seemed like a simple and logical solution, a sensible one that she would have normally appreciated from him, but he's finding out every day how the pregnancy can play with her mood and reactions.

"Hear me out before throwing a curse at me okay?" She must have sensed the despair in his voice, because she only nods slowly.

He tells her to lean on him and she does it, sniffling and drying her tears with the back of her hand.

She lays her head on his shoulder, their legs intertwine and she snakes her hand loosely on his right hip.

"Better?"

Hermione is quiet for a minute, and he is pretty sure she's crying again.

"Much. Thank you," she croaks as he caresses her hair and lays a kiss on her forehead.

Hermione stomach rests comfortably against his side and he thinks he just felt his daughter kick against his ribcage.

As he lays wide awake on his back, Hermione's breathing now even and deep as she succumbed to much needed sleep, he feels his heart racing.

This is his life now.

He'll be a dad in a few month, and he finds himself constantly walking a fine line between overjoyed thrill and complete terror.

_It'll be okay. Breathe._


	19. Celebration

**19. Celebration**

They gather at the Burrow.

Because this is what they do now.

It's a strange tradition that they have. She can't really remember which year they started it really, just that one day they all decided that they'll honour the people who lost their lives in the battle by reuniting at Ron's childhood home.

It's never nothing big. Just the Weasleys coming together and sharing dinner.

This year though, Hermione pays more attention to her nieces and nephews running around the orchard. They look so innocent and carefree, oblivious to how hard people fought for their future.

Rose snores softly in her arms.

"Everything's alright?" Ron asks her as he circles his arm around her hip tenderly.

She nods absentmindedly.

She reflects the losses of the war with a newfound understanding.

She's a mother now, and if anything happened to her daughter she'd turn the world upside down and curse anyone that'd come in her way. Her eyes fall on Molly, scolding George because he's making fun of Percy, as usual. Hermione detects a hint of sadness on her mother-in-law's face. She knows she's thinking about Fred. She must always do. Sadly, being around George makes it harder.

Sometimes she forgets. She doesn't remember the horror of the battle, the solitude of the hunt, the burns of the Cruciatus or the lives that were taken. She gets caught up in her daily life, which has escalated wildly into chaos since Rose's birth.

The oblivion never last though.

They all knew what they were getting into.

Hell, she didn't even think she'd make it out alive.

She squeezes Ron's hand on her hip as she watches Teddy laugh with Fleur. She sees a beautiful mix of Lupin and Tonk in him. Tonk never really got to be a mother. It suddenly breaks Hermione's heart.

She holds Rose tighter against her chest. The anniversary of the battle is harder to celebrate this year.


	20. Lust

_A/N: Hi all. Happy new year! Here's to a fantastic year ahead of us! I have been travelling over the holidays and work is expected to be insane this month so I don't know how much writing will be done. Maybe lots because I seem to be more inspired when I have less time to write, maybe few because no time. We shall see. In the meantime enjoy this little piece of fluff to celebrate 2014! (Though this isn't set during NYE). _

* * *

They are snogging on her parents couch.

In Australia.

Barely a week after they found them.

A few weeks ago she was fighting for her life on the burning grounds of her school. And now she's kissing the boy she's been in love with for longer that she cares to admit.

Everything is a bit overwhelming.

Ron's hand slides higher on her tight, getting closer to-

"We need to stop," she whispers detaching her lips from his regretfully.

He goes on and hovers his lips against her neck. Deposing light kisses on her skin in ways that makes her shiver all over.

She moans and pushes him away.

"We can't."

Ron sighs frustratingly and sprawl back onto the couch cushions, putting distance between them.

She hates it.

"Ron," she says softly as she grabs his hand. He doesn't pushes her away. "We can't have sex on my parents couch."

"It's been days since I've touched you."

He makes her blush, he sees it and starts grinning in a way that makes her want to forget where she is.

"Last time was better right?" He asks a bit unsure.

They're still very new at this.

"It was," she tells him dreamily.

"Your room then?" He tries hopefully.

"They'll hear us."

"Well, you're a witch, use a silencing charm."

He's adorable as he says that. But she remembers that magic is what tears her apart from her parents and she knows it won't be a good idea.

"I don't want to use magic around my parents. Every time I do I feel like I'm betraying them."

She doesn't say is that it didn't start the day she performed a memory charm on them, but much earlier. She doesn't recall a time she hasn't felt that way. Even when she was eleven and just received her Hogwarts letter.

"Now more than any time before..."

He's quiet for a while. She doesn't know if it's because he's realising that their sex life is now on hold barely after it jut begun or if he's understanding more her ordeal.

"They'll forgive you."

She wants to believe him.

"And when they do, we'll shag in your bedroom in celebration."

He's grinning so widely now she isn't sure she wants to smack him or snog him senseless.

"And when that day come, I'll let you cast the silencing charm."

She smacks him.


End file.
